Not that there will be one-hundredth of a million people. Fuck, that's all the gah I've got for yodeling the cud today. Here's an anti-Occupy K St, here's a pro-Occupy K St, needless to say I understand and completely agree while disagreeing with each. Here's an oldie, Fleabus as Metaphor:
- Useless inventions.
- Occupy the Police State.
- Police state.
- Austerity and blood baths.
- Occupy Philadelphia.
- Gitmo forever.
- The face of the killer who is your president.
- Krugman will never have an obamapostasy.
- A frothy mix of fecal matter and lube sums up crackerism.
- He is still The World's Shittiest Human.
- Varieties of political correctness.
- Art as propaganda.
- Albums liked, with sound, for both those worthy and unworthy.
- Way of the sun.
- Honey and the moon.
- Morning star.
- Woke up with these in my head:
VASECTOMY
Philip Appleman
After the steaming bodies swept
through the hungry streets of swollen cities;
after the vast pink spawning of family
poisoned the rivers and ravaged the prairies;
after the gamble of latex and
diaphragms and pills;
I invoked the white robes, gleaming blades
ready for blood, and, feeling the scourge
of Increase and Multiply, made
affirmation: Yes, deliver us from
complicity.
And after the precision of scalpels,
I woke to a landscape of sunshine where
the catbird mates for life and
maps trace out no alibis—stepped
into a morning of naked truth,
where acts mean what they really are:
the purity of loving
for the sake of love.
